


Resources and Rescues

by Violsva



Category: Enchanted Forest Chronicles - Patricia Wrede
Genre: Fairy Tale Elements, Female Friendship, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violsva/pseuds/Violsva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cimorene settles in as Queen, visits a friend, and does some mild rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resources and Rescues

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyotegestalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyotegestalt/gifts).



> Set shortly after _Searching for Dragons_. This was fun to write; I hope you like it!

Queen Cimorene of the Enchanted Forest was not in a hurry – luckily, since being in a hurry was an excellent way to get lost in the Enchanted Forest. The forest seemed to be quite amenable to her direction, however – most of what she saw was familiar. She was striding along the path of a small stream, careful of her footing (not only to keep from getting too close to the edge, but also to avoid stepping on anything unfortunate, which was a rather large possible category). When she came to two oak trees growing next to each other she stepped between them and turned left towards Morwen’s cottage.

After another few minutes the trees thinned and she could see a neat grey house with a red roof and two cats sitting on the front porch. As she reached the clearing, Morwen was just exiting through the front door, followed by another, white cat.

“Oh,” she said, looking up. “Hello, Cimorene. Anything urgent?”

“No, definitely not,” said Cimorene. “Today is less busy than usual, and I thought I’d drop by for a visit. But if you’re busy, of course, don’t worry – I should have called first.”

“Better that you didn’t; my magic mirror is having difficulties. It’s getting old; I should look into finding a new one. I’m not busy, though – I do have to gather certain herbs, and it has to be today, but if you don’t mind a walk I certainly don’t mind company for it.”

“Of course,” said Cimorene as Morwen reached her. She wasn’t carrying a basket or anything else to hold herbs, but Cimorene remembered her storing things like that in some kind of spell in her sleeves. “Is it the phase of the moon?”

“Yes, precisely.” They turned left, Cimorene trusting Morwen to know the area around her house well enough. And of course, though she wasn’t used to the idea yet, as a member of the royal family she couldn’t get entirely lost in the forest.

“Is it a nuisance, having to pick herbs at the right time?”

“Not usually – you just learn to keep your calendar up to date. Telemain says he’s developed a workaround for the moon’s influence, but I’m not going to trust it without thorough experimentation, and I simply don’t have time.”

“Is he settling in, do you think? I haven’t seen him since he moved out of the castle.”

“Yes, he certainly is. The last time I visited he was testing different types of magic on all possible reflective surfaces, and was very excited because the forest provided all kinds of both magical and non-magical ponds. If he’s not careful he’ll drink from the wrong one and be turned into a deer. He’s ecstatic.”

“Oh good.”

“And how are matters at the palace? I assume there haven’t been any reports of wizards.”

“No, or we would have told you at once. But there’s a unicorn in the west that’s being difficult, and we found an enchanter keeping a full dozen toads of different kinds sitting on hen’s eggs, and I had to talk to Kazul about a young dragon near the Caves of Fire and Night. Oh, and we badly need new staff; five of the maids Willin hired just before the wedding turned out to be princesses in disguise, which is really excessive.”

“Heavens, yes. So you’re fitting in well, then?”

“Oh yes. That is, Willin keeps talking about ‘natural increase,’ but he’s discreet enough to ignore.”

“Good,” said Morwen emphatically.

Cimorene looked at her and smiled. “Don’t worry. I do want children, I’m just happy to let them show up at their own pace. Tell me what herbs you’re looking for.”

Morwen pulled a small pair of scissors and a jar out of one of her sleeves, then bent down and cut the stem of a yellow flower, touching it as little as possible as she conveyed it to the jar. “Henbane, like this – be careful picking it. Parsley. And there’s a bed of moonwort I use this way.” She returned the full jar to her sleeve.

They walked north, occasionally stopping when one of them recognized a herb – usually Morwen, but Cimorene had learned some herblore while living with Kazul. They talked about forest politics, and a little about magic, and about cooking. Cimorene didn’t get much opportunity to cook now, and the head cook at the castle was rather territorial.

“Is it hard cooking for one, though?” Cimorene asked. “Or do you get a lot of visitors?”

“Some of them are scared off by what they’ve heard about witches,” said Morwen, smiling. “But usually everything manages to get eaten, and I have a magical chest for storing things which go stale quickly.”

“Oh, yes, we have one in the pantry. Do you object to strangers coming by? I know a lot of the forest creatures direct people to your house.”

“Actually, the forest tends to pre-screen them for me. It’s part of why I live here. Anyone too irritating won’t be able to get to my door, or sometimes enter the forest at all.”

“Oh yes. Do you think it’s gotten even better at that since Telemain’s spell? Mendanbar says he thinks so, but there hasn’t really been time to judge.”

“I don’t think I would be able to tell. Mendanbar’s magic gives him an entirely different view of the forest, and on a rather larger scale than mine. Turn here, and follow me closely.”

They walked carefully around the edge of an apparently empty clearing. Morwen knocked three times on a tree trunk at the far side, and then bent to pick some of the herbs growing at its roots.

When they had passed the clearing Cimorene asked, “Anyone I should know about living there?”

“No,” said Morwen, “just a rather irritable fire-witch. He’s no trouble on his own, now that his daughter’s left. And that tree simply prefers if you ask permission.”

“All right,” said Cimorene. She’d learned that ruling the Enchanted Forest involved a lot more leaving people to their own devices than her parents would have considered proper. Luckily she had practice from living with the King of the Dragons.

They stopped at a largish meadow a few minutes’ walk away, and Cimorene set willingly to picking moonwort. For this Morwen produced a couple baskets from her sleeves.

There was a lot of bending over, but it was a lovely day – not too hot, and after so much time in the dim greenness of the forest unfiltered sunlight was always a welcome novelty. They talked about spell casting, and the oddities of living in the Enchanted Forest, and Cimorene found a clump of flat-leaved parsley and added that to the basket as well.

“Well!” said Morwen. “I think that will last me a while. Thank you, Cimorene.”

“It was no trouble.”

“It was enough trouble that I ought to repay you in cider,” Morwen smiled, and Cimorene laughed.

“I won’t object to that.”

As soon as they left the meadow, however, Cimorene felt a twinge in the back of her mind, as she sometimes did now if the forest was shifting nearby. She glanced around, but nothing seemed out of order, so she didn’t stop, but placed a hand on Morwen’s sleeve and slowed down. Morwen looked at her, and nodded.

A minute later they arrived unexpectedly in a small clearing. It wasn’t big enough for much light to get through the branches above it, so the black-and-purple monster blended into the shadows at first. The young woman it was attacking, however, didn’t.

She had long blonde hair, falling out of a knot on the back of her head, and a perfect milky complexion. Cimorene assumed she was a princess, though her dress was much more plain than she would have expected. It didn’t matter, though; she was pummelling the nightshade with her fists, but she definitely needed help.

Cimorene hadn’t thought she’d need to carry a sword on her walk – nothing in the forest would seriously harm the Queen – and she glanced quickly at Morwen. The blonde woman caught a glimpse of them and screamed for help.

“I haven’t got a sword,” said Cimorene quickly. “Can you do something?”

“Of course.” Morwen dropped her basket and stepped forward, turning a little sideways, toward the nightshade but away from the girl. She raised her arms.

_“Sky and sea and whirling sands,  
Stop the monster where it stands!”_

The nightshade froze. The woman dropped out of its purple claws with a tearing sound. She slumped on the ground, but pushed herself up on one hand after a moment. She was bleeding in several places.

“Don’t get up just yet,” said Morwen, rushing over.

Morwen checked the girl over quickly, then said, “Nothing too serious. Hold still.” She pulled a roll of bandages out of her left sleeve and quickly wrapped the worst of the cuts, on the girl’s upper arm. “The rest of these should be treated properly soon as well. Do you live nearby?”

“No, not at all,” the girl admitted. Cimorene offered her a hand up, and she stood. Her hand was unexpectedly callused. “Thanks,” she said. She dusted off her ripped skirts with a nervous look back. “What _is_ that?”

“A nightshade,” said Cimorene. “Usually they stay further north than here, but they are a danger everywhere in the forest.” It was only the second one she’d seen, but she’d heard enough of the problems with them in the last year to know about them. “Morwen, we can’t just leave it frozen there forever.”

“True,” said Morwen, beginning to search through her sleeves. The young woman backed away from the nightshade, but stayed in the clearing, near Cimorene; she was taking slow deep breaths. She’d probably be more emotionally stable shortly, Cimorene judged. Good for her, to know to take a moment to calm herself.

“Ha,” said Morwen. “I can’t kill it, not with what I have on hand, but I can at least send it away. Cimorene, hold this and stand still.” She passed Cimorene one end of a piece of string. It glowed a faint silver.

Morwen walked around the clearing, muttering to herself and wrapping the string around the nightshade. It was clearly still conscious of what was going on around it, glaring at them and blinking menacingly. Cimorene tried not to look at it.

Morwen reached Cimorene again, crossed the ends of the string twice, and then took Cimorene’s end and began tying an intricate knot. At last she held the knot in both hands, pulled it back until the string was taut, and shouted “Go!” as she let go of it.

The string snapped back on the nightshade like a rubber band. There was a flash of silver light, and then the nightshade disappeared, leaving the string on the forest floor. Morwen undid the knot and then carefully wound the string back up into a ball. It looked less substantial than it had before the spell, somehow.

“Where have you sent it?” asked the young woman, now looking recovered from the nightshade but rather shocked at the magic.

“Just to another part of the Enchanted Forest,” said Morwen. “On the northern edge. People know to be wary of them there.”

“The Enchanted Forest!” said the girl, looking around. “Surely I haven’t gone so far as that.”

“You certainly have,” Morwen said. “Where are you from originally?”

“Pearoe.” It didn’t share a border with the Enchanted Forest, but Cimorene recognized it as only being one kingdom away to the east. “I don’t know how I got here, I was just going to leave the capital to get work somewhere, but I was travelling at night, and when I woke up the next afternoon I was right next to the trees.”

“Travelling _away_ from the capital to get work?” asked Cimorene. The girl glanced away. “Why? Oh, excuse me. I’m Cimorene, and this is Morwen. What’s your name?”

Cimorene didn’t distrust the girl – if she had entered the forest in the first place, and they had come across her, she couldn’t be too dishonest. It sounded, in fact, as if the forest had actively exerted itself to let her in, reaching out as far as possible for her.

“Cynthia Ellis,” said the girl. “I was just – I’m sorry, do you mind if I sit down?”

“I don’t mind,” said Cimorene, “but it’s not always a good idea to just sit on the ground here.”

“If you think you can walk for ten minutes or so,” said Morwen, “we can go back to my house and have some cider, while you explain what you’re doing here. And I can deal with your cuts properly.”

“Oh,” said Cynthia. “All right.”

Cimorene caught Morwen’s eye, and the witch nodded. Cimorene nodded back. The girl probably had a secret, but most people did. And Cimorene trusted Morwen’s judgement. She picked up her basket and retrieved the herbs that had fallen out when she dropped it upon seeing the nightshade, and they started walking.

Cynthia was clearly still not used to the Enchanted Forest; she gazed at the huge trees around her with wonder as they walked.

“Where _can_ I find work here?” she asked eventually. “I mean, I suppose people must live here, if you do.”

“That depends on what you can do,” said Morwen.

“I’m -” Cynthia lifted her chin and took a deep breath, as if she had prepared this speech but never said it out loud before. “I’m a good general servant and plain cook. I don’t have references, but I’ve been working for years and I can do all kinds of housework and kitchen and scullery work. I thought I might find someone living alone, or a small family, who wanted someone to do for them.”

Cimorene and Morwen looked at each other. “Most people here don’t have servants,” said Morwen. “Or else they aren’t the kind of people you want to work for.”

“I didn’t steal from anyone!” said Cynthia. “I mean, that’s not why I’m looking for work. Or why I left.”

“I meant it,” said Morwen. “You don’t want to be doing the dishes for an ogre. But why did you leave?”

Cynthia bit her lip. “My stepmother lives in the capital. Everyone knows me there.”

“Ah,” said Cimorene, recognizing the sound of this. Cynthia looked at her and seemed to be reassured.

“I was working for her, before,” she said. “That’s why I don’t have a reference. I was just – but I do have all the experience I said. Oh!” She stopped walking, and blinked down at the large brown cat winding around her ankles.

“Fiddlesticks, what are you doing here?” asked Morwen.

“Mrrp?” said Fiddlesticks, staring up at Cynthia. Cimorene tried not to smile.

“What? Good heavens, leave the poor girl’s lunch alone. Has anything happened at the cottage?”

“Mrow,” said Fiddlesticks, turning back and trotting in front of them. Morwen shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Miss Ellis. He’s always like this. It’s because you have tuna sandwiches in your pocket. Don’t give him any.” Fiddlesticks objected, but Morwen ignored him.

“Are you a witch, then?” asked Cynthia.

“Yes,” said Morwen. “Is that a problem?”

“Oh! No! Just. I’ll tell you when we’re inside.”

They were in sight of Morwen’s house by then. Cynthia tilted her head at the black and gold sign, and then was distracted by the apple trees and the cats.

“Come along,” said Morwen, striding toward the back door. “Those wounds need attention.”

They settled around Morwen’s kitchen table, and Morwen applied ointment and bandages to Cynthia’s cuts. “Ow!” said Cynthia.

“Good. Sorry, it’s supposed to sting. It will take your mind off it if you tell us about your stepmother. Or something else, of course.”

Cynthia sighed. “She wasn’t _cruel_ ,” she said. “Just too cheap to pay real servants, and _won’t you help out, Cynthia_ , and _you’re so useful around the house, Cynthia_ – it was like that when my father was alive, and then after his death she just got - worse.”

“You didn’t have an inheritance?” asked Cimorene.

“Not after her daughters went through all the dressmakers’ shops in town. Everything left went to her, to look after us with. If I had money of my own I’d have left long before, but I’m only seventeen, so she’s my legal guardian, and if I stayed near the capital someone would have told her how to find me.”

“So what made you leave now?”

“Oh, nothing made me,” said Cynthia. “In fact things were going quite well for them, so they weren’t – they were happy. The prince had returned from a diplomatic mission, you see, and the king held a Grand Ball in his honour and invited everyone of any standing in the kingdom. And my stepfamily thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to set themselves up in society and meet the nobility.”

“And you wanted to go?” asked Cimorene.

“Oh, no! I mean, I suppose it would have been nice, but I’m a terrible dancer, and I don’t really like crowds. So I didn’t _want_ to go – actually I was really looking forward to having the night off, with no one calling me all evening to make cocoa or a midnight snack – but this woman appeared.” Cynthia gestured dramatically.

“Hold still,” muttered Morwen. “A woman arrived?”

“No, _appeared_. In a cloud of blue smoke.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Cimorene. “Go on.”

“She said she was my fairy godmother, which was odd, because I’d never heard of her before, but apparently she’d been a friend of my mother. Anyway, she transformed my dress into a ballgown and my shoes into glass slippers – I don’t know why glass, I was terrified of walking in them – and the dishcloth into a diamond necklace, and told me to go to the ball and dance with the prince.”

“So that he would fall in love with you?”

“Well, that’s what she _said_ ,” said Cynthia. “And then she disappeared before I could tell her – I don’t think she’d been paying attention to the news. The prince was in love with a lady from Meriambee, where he’d been visiting. I don’t know how she didn’t hear about it; everyone in the kingdom knew.”

“In my experience, fairy godmothers tend not to worry about that kind of thing,” said Cimorene, remembering some of her own fairy godmother’s more irritating habits.

“Well, I didn’t think he’d leave his fiancée for me unless there was magic involved, and if there was it really didn’t seem fair. So I changed into my spare dress, and borrowed my stepsister’s shoes, and I – well, I sold the ballgown and the necklace and the glass slippers, and bought supplies for a trip. I had a bag full of them, but I dropped it when the – the nightshade grabbed me.”

“That seems very practical,” said Morwen approvingly. “I’m finished. Don’t take the bandages off for at least four days. I’ll get out the cider.”

When they were all sitting around the table again with mugs of cider in front of them, Cynthia said, “It might have been practical, but I really feel – well, guilty. I mean, my fairy godmother said the clothes would disappear at midnight, so I guess it was theft, or a trick, at least. But the people I sold them to were all very well off, and it got me away from my stepmother, and I know I shouldn’t have done it but I just wanted to get _out_ of that house and that city. So now I definitely can’t go back.”

“I do see what you mean,” said Cimorene.

“So that’s why I was leaving the country. I didn’t expect to end up _here_ , though.”

“And you’re not tired of housework?” asked Cimorene, remembering how tired she had been of being a princess.

“It’s not housework that’s the problem, it’s that I didn’t get paid for it, or any time off. I do need a job, and that’s what I’m good at.”

“Hmm,” said Cimorene, who was beginning to think of a solution. “Are you sure you’re not royalty of any kind?”

“Oh, I’m definitely not,” said Cynthia, laughing. “What do you mean?”

“Anything strange about your birth or your parents? Sorry, I know it’s a bit personal, but it is important.”

“No, nothing like that.” She looked confused, now.

“You’re sure? Even, I don’t know, did your mother have any odd cravings for vegetables?”

“No.”

“Excellent!” said Cimorene. She’d have to put together a proper sort of interview for this kind of thing later, she supposed. “Then I would like to offer you a job at the palace.”

“Oh,” said Morwen, starting to smile. “Oh, I see. That would work very well.”

“At the palace, ma’am!”

“Yes. You see, I am the Queen of the Enchanted Forest -”

“Oh!” said Cynthia, standing up quickly and dropping into a curtsey.

“- and we’ve been having some staffing problems lately. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable – that’s why I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“Oh.” Cynthia stood still for a moment, blinking. “I’ve never – I’ve _seen_ the royal family in Pearoe, but I’ve never _met_ them. You’re so – practical.”

Cimorene suspected she had been going to say _ordinary_ , and smiled. “We are a little more casual in the Enchanted Forest,” she said. “I can tell the cook to expect you this evening, or you can come with me when I leave, or of course you can decide you’d prefer not to, and Morwen might know of other places you can look for work. It’d be room and board as well as your wages, one day off a week, and time off or extra pay on holidays.”

“Oh, I certainly would like it,” said Cynthia. “I – if you really don’t mind, your majesty, I’ll go with you. I don’t really fancy the idea of wandering around here alone anymore.”

“Good,” said Cimorene. “I certainly don’t mind. You see, what we really need is servants who like the work, and won’t suddenly turn out to be princesses in disguise and run off with a hedgehog from the garden. Or try and seduce my husband.”

“Oh, no, definitely not!” said Cynthia, blushing.

“Then we’ll go to the castle together, after we’ve had some more cider.”


End file.
